


Try To Figure It Out

by LunerSoul997



Series: To Hear Your Song Again [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, I have no idea, M/M, Thats honestly all i can think of, Werewolf Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunerSoul997/pseuds/LunerSoul997
Summary: "Yeah, I'll keep an ear to the net. If I spot your boyfriend, I'll let you know.""I think you're mixing metaphors.""Pepper!" Tony chirps, ignoring Steve. "Look at the thing I made!"
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: To Hear Your Song Again [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031286
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Milo gets the tags back to him by the end of the week.

Most of that week is spent unpacking and ordering furniture and appliances online. Marie (who _was_ an interior designer, as it so happens) helps him with matching the colours and stuff. He'd only ever applied colour theory in an artistic sense so he had _no idea_ what he was doing. 

The first thing he got was a bed frame and a mattress. Then came a kitchen table, chairs, bedside tables, couches, tables for the couches, an armchair, a coffee table, a tv stand, bookshelves, a desk, a desk chair, a wardrobe, shelves, etc. 

God, he never realized how much furniture people had until he had to decorate an apartment. Luckily, he'd already collected tonnes of knick-knacks, books, pillows, art supplies, and just general clutter over the years, so he was set on that front.

He does, however, buy a succulent, because Nat likes them. She thinks that they're 'pure'. Their name is Rock and they live on his kitchen counter. He adores them.

Tony hooks him up with a grocery delivery service so that he doesn't have to brave the supermarket every week or so. Steve makes a note to get him something really nice for his birthday because _holy shit_ is it nice to not stress about getting groceries.

Clint gives him a pasta maker for some reason. Although confused by the gift, Steve thanks him for it and puts it in a cupboard.

Speaking of appliances, that's a whole _other_ thing, because _apparently_ people need 'actual toasters' and 'you can't just fry it in a pan'. So, yeah. He got a toaster. 

And when _that_ wasn't 'good enough', he got a blender, a fan, a few lamps, a microwave, an alarm clock, a regular clock, and a _hairdryer_ for some fucking reason.

Why can't Nat bring her own hairdryer? Why was she taking showers in his apartment in the first place? Fuck if he knows! But is he going to argue with her? No, of course not. He's not an idiot.

By the end of the week, he has the tags back, his apartment fully furnished and decorated, and a full fridge. 

Now, he needs to make a few calls. Pull a few strings.

###

He calls Nat and asks her to translate the Winter Soldier files. She agrees, but only after chiding him for not having learned Russian yet.

After that, he calls Sam and asks if he'd be interested in running a few missions with him.

Sam is on the fence about it until Steve assures him that it won't be for quite a while. Sam caves, but he's more concerned about his wings than anything. 

Steve tells him that he'll talk to Tony about it.

***

"I don't know, Steve," Milo says sadly. "This might be beyond my abilities."

"I understand it's not standard practice," Steve says. "But I'll feel better if I've taken the precaution,"

Milo eyes the request Steve had given him. "It will take a while, and I make no guarantees." _but I'll try_ is left unsaid.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Milo says, running his fingers across the spines of his books. He plucks one off of the shelf and checks its cover. Seemingly satisfied, he arranges the tome on the bookstand. "This might not even work."

Steve nods, because he understands. He does. It not being 'standard practice' was the understatement of the century. He's not sure something like this had even been _attempted_ before.

"I trust you."

Milo huffs. "Well, now I feel obligated. That's not fair."

"I'm not in a very fair mood."

Milo hums and flips through the grimoire. "Yeah, well. I wouldn't be, either."

***

Finally, he calls Tony and asks him to keep an eye out for Bucky. Tony, after some teasing and joking, says he will.

"Yeah, I'll keep an ear to the net. If I spot your boyfriend, I'll let you know."

"I think you're mixing metaphors."

"Pepper!" Tony chirps, ignoring Steve. "Look at the thing I made!"

"I'm looking, Tony," Pepper says. He must be on speaker.

"Well?" Tony presses.

"Well?"

"Validate me."

"It's very nice, sweetie," Pepper says amusedly.

"Ohh! There's the happy chemical. Thanks, honey."

"You're welcome," Pepper says, a smile in her voice.

"But yeah," Tony says, seemingly talking to Steve again. "There are millions of CCTV cameras all over the place just ripe for the hacking, and I have a new facial recognition software I've been meaning to test out. So, if anything, this is benefiting _me_ more than anything. Jarvis will let you know if we get a hit."

A really, _really_ nice birthday present.

"Thanks, Tony."

"No problem, Steve-o. I gotta go cuddle with my girlfriend, so bye," Tony says before hanging up.

Steve snorts and tosses his phone onto the mattress. Tony wasn't too concerned with manners at the best of times, which Steve found both jarring and refreshing. 

He closes his eyes with a sigh. It's unlikely that he'll find him tomorrow. He probably won't find him for months, maybe even years.

But for the first time in a long time, there's hope. There's a fire in his chest, a flickering candlelight. Tiny, but there. The flame doesn't burn, doesn't flood his lungs with smoke, it only warms him from the inside out, a benevolent companion.

So, he might not find him tomorrow, but the light in his chest reminds him that there's hope. Someday feels a lot better than never.


	2. Chapter 2

_Bruised knuckles and bloody fingers, clinging to a bag strap. Lips, split and chapped, grinning up at him with blood-stained teeth. A laugh. He feels light with relief, joy, and affection._

_He blinks. Sickly yellow skin and cracked lips. Blue eyes, cloudy and exhausted._ Just rest. _Closed eyes and laboured breathing. Dread weighs heavily on him._

_Shattering glass and pounding feet. His legs burn and his heart races. A shout. He turns. Scraped knees and heaving chest. He halls him to his feet. He grins, straw blond hair falling into his eyes. Together, they run, laughing._

_A growl trapped in his throat. Concerned blue eyes under a black moon. Anger, harsh and abrupt, only one target. He charges and they collide, a great clash of teeth and claws. They wrestle for control, for the chance at the killing bite. Claws rake across his flank, tear flesh and rip out fur. Vertebrae beneath his jaws-_

He woke with a jolt, taking great heaving breaths, his heart hammering in his chest. The dream-memory was already fuzzy around the edges, slipping through his fingers like sand. The more the tried to hold on, the faster it faded.

Once he had his breathing under control, he let himself lie back down. He stares at the ceiling, watching the lights of the city play across its surface. He settled the ratty blanket over his legs and belly. He slides his hand under his pillow. 

His fingers meet the cool metal of a gun barrel.

Shadows danced across the ceiling, liquid and impermanent. He was tired. If he was lucky, he might be able to fall back asleep. The shadows leaped across the cracks in the ceiling. Cracks that were far too familiar to him. He'd been here too long.

With a sigh, he sits back up. He throws on a stolen sweatshirt and laces up his boots. He packs his journal, pillow, spare clothes, and blanket in his backpack and straps it on. He tucks the gun into his waistband.

He checks the stolen watch. The white numbers blink brightly up at him, blinding him. He squints. _2:27_ Almost an hour of sleep, this time. 


End file.
